Manson went outside the trailer door after finding Aunt Maren's money pouch between the fridge and the cabinet. He had no idea how it had ended up there, but he had no time to ponder it. His aunt was a couple of blocks away, and it just so happened to be a time when a lot of traffic might hinder his movements, making his return home very late, possibly after midnight.
He turned off his gaming console system despite wanting to finish the prologue so he could get to the good parts of the story. But his time playing as his favorite red-skinned humanoid character, Starnis Wrath, would have to wait, as he put on his outside shoes, held the money pouch in his back pocket, and held his uneaten burrito with the charred remains on the outside.
Even though his stomach was begging for him to fill it up with anything, Manson would not budge. There was simply not enough time to make another snack, and he should hurry up to Brastini's if he wanted to prevent trouble from brewing with Manson's aunt and her friend when they reached the front of the line.
Between the trailer park and the lavish restaurant Brastini, there was a vast distance that would inevitably involve chaotic traffic, both with the people walking by on the sidewalk and the cars on the road. No matter how fast he could run, he would be too late trying to reach the restaurant on time.
So the idea was that Manson would consider trying to make a detour through Harmist Lane, a notorious piece of land separating the commercial district of Standart and the Lackful District, home of the poor and the unfortunate, where no one was recognized as an individual worthy of value from the other districts. It was considered dangerous and suicidal to even attempt trying to go down the lane, but Manson truly believed that if he was a bit careful with how he interacted with the people, mostly to avoid whatever they were doing, then he would be out of the place without further issues. That would involve not getting himself into trouble, as he heard rumors from school that many students of Standart High would dare themselves to enter the district and cause some trouble, only for them to be kidnapped, beaten up, or even murdered.
Some even said that ghosts haunt the darkness of night to prey on unsuspecting people passing by, but it was probably random stories to scare children with. It was definitely the type of thing that Marlene, an acquaintance from his homeroom class, would make up for her own amusement.
Manson would prefer to go to Harmist Lane during the day, but night offers a lot more problems to avoid and deal with.
On the bright side, if he returned home from delivering the money to Aunt Maren, he would have all the time in the world to fully cherish his exclusive card of Hypercosmic Battleground character Sheri Fruit that came with the premium edition game. As mentioned before when explaining the whole concept to Quad Four, he deeply cherished the franchise of the video game he bought, so he wouldn't try to waste any more time going outside.
With a goal in mind, Manson walked out of the trailer with his jacket on, commenting that the cold weather was creeping up as the autumn days were passing by. He locked the door behind him as he stretched his limbs and looked around the place.
The trailer park was full of trailers, an obvious observation to point that out. From what he was seeing, only a handful of people were outside in their lawn chairs. Some of them were chatting around, while others were watching their television. The rest of the inhabitants in the little town were inside their own trailers, the lights glowing from inside.
Manson momentarily looked around the area, noting the lanterns strung up in the clothesline and the campfire that seemed to always burn without the wind disturbing its tender flames. There was also the large metal tower built from scraps containing the names of every person living in the trailer park.
Regardless of how cramped it was to be in Aunt Maren's trailer and how little privacy was offered, there was that one single moment at night that just made it more bearable to be in because the view at night gave off feelings of nostalgia.
As he walked towards the trailer park's exit, Manson went to feed his uneaten burrito to one of the dogs next to his neighbor's trailer. The brown-furred puppy barked happily at the boy's presence as it jumped around. He placed the burrito on the ground in front of the hungry-looking dog.
"Hey there, got something for you to snack on. Didn't feel like eating it, but I didn't want to waste it, so here ya go."
The dog immediately accepted his food offering and devoured the burrito in a couple of seconds. Manson was surprised at the speed at which it ate the burrito, like the dog breathed the food itself into its stomach. He chuckled at the sight that was before him.
"Manson, is that you in the dark?" A voice said to him.
He turned and saw that it was an old couple sitting in front of their trailer right across from him. Their plain brown clothes blended in with the color of their trailer, and their white elderly hair pulled straight down.
The old man with the leather cap was Hiroshi Fuyano, and his wife was Hiromi Fuyano. Both of them were longtime neighbors of Aunt Maren. In fact, they were the ones who showed her the ropes in the trailer park community.
Hiromi smiled sweetly, her hands placed on her lap. "You're awfully in a hurry to go somewhere outside, even when it is already dark. Where are you going? Should we be worried? However, I know you're a smart boy." The old woman looked at the dog, with the collar tethered to a fence post hole. "I see you couldn't help yourself from playing with our dog."
"Good evening, Hiromi. Don't worry about me; I'm just getting some stuff Aunt Maren forgot to take with her and giving it to her outside in a restaurant," Manson replied to her.
The old man with the cane adjusted his collar, giving off a stern look to Manson.
"Say, you heard about your aunt borrowing my motorcycle for a bit? You better talk to her about it because if my baby is damaged in any way—"
"Oh, hush now, Hiroshi," Hiromi sternly said to him. "Oh, don't mind him; he's just a bit worried about his toy. I'm positively sure that Maren is properly taking care of the motorcycle, so use it as much as you need it; don't worry about having to return it early."
"Well, I'm just going to be safe on the way, so I'm not gonna waste any more of your time," Manson stated to the elderly couple.
"If you're sure that you want to go, then take care of yourself at your destination," the old woman said to him.
Hiromi waved her handkerchief as a sign of goodbye while Hiroshi gruffed with his arms crossed, but nodded in approval of Manson going outside. He waved his hand in return to acknowledge their goodbyes, his head still facing away as he did so.
Upon reaching the trailer park exit, he pushed the heavy gate and went beyond, intending to pass through the foot traffic.
* * *
The buildings glittered with lights inside each room, with their windows open. The pedestrians outside on the sidewalk made way to their destinations without much of a glance at each other, like each person only mattered to themselves.
The cars on the road, however, were packed up to the limit. The pace the automobiles were going was at a snail's pace, enough to pass two city blocks in an hour. Honks and shouting erupted from cars trying to pass each other while the people at the crosswalks tried to avoid getting hit by the cars.
Manson didn't expect the traffic to be so chaotic, both on the road and on the sidewalk. It was a good thing he knew where to enter Harmist Lane, because not many people used it as a shortcut to go to the lively parts of the Standart.
By going through a couple of alleyways between the buildings and going through the dumpster and their rat-infested homes, he was able to find the entrance to Harmist Lane.
The lane walls were lined with gray bricks, sectioning off the vastly different districts of the city. The road was not even paved for comfortable driving, let alone a sidewalk for pedestrians to walk on.
Manson carefully scanned the area around him, being extra alert for something behind. There weren't exactly a lot of jumbled life in the outside air of Harmist Lane, consisting of only dogs and cats running around, and people sleeping on flattened cardboard boxes.
He looked over the one-story, worn-down buildings and saw that people were watching him behind their window blinds. Manson tried to cover his face as he briskly walked forward.
"Come on..." he impatiently whispered to himself. "Where is the exit to this place? I don't know if I can survive here for another minute or two."
The wind was chilly, softly howling as it dragged small objects and made them scratch the ground. The moon acted as the main source of light in the suspicious route.
A sound of something snapping, like a thin branch, came from his side. With a sudden turn, Manson's heart almost leapt out of his chest as he expected to find someone mugging him with a gun or knife.
Instead, no one was there besides him. Only the dust blowing around from the wind's pull.
"Weird... was I hearing things? I need to calm down, or else I might pass out."
Now that he actually experienced the place at night, Harmist Lane was unusually like a mystical labyrinth with dozens of pathways that led to dead ends, not really fit for an ordinary theme in a city like Standart. The emptiness of the streets and the outer high walls made Manson feel suffocated, like they were closing in on him. He wondered how people could stay in an area like this.
Manson walked and continued to do so until he stumbled upon a fountain in the middle of an empty circle of land. With only a couple of lamps that were actually on, he could see that water wasn't running through the holes.
He peered below and saw that there were only a couple of fast-food burger wrappers and some red cloth tangled up. It looked like it was big enough to be a flag, but he wasn't going to touch whatever it came from. Manson did not want to go to the hospital, wasting his time on his precious hobbies.
Just as he was going to search for the exit, Manson heard loud grumbling from both sides, left to right. In a panic, Manson went inside one of the buildings, a saloon of some kind, and went to the roof with a ladder next to the bar.
He ducked behind cover without making much noise, and peered over the ledge, making sure he wouldn't be spotted.
At first, the grumbling momentarily stopped, and he considered getting into the open again. But the voices returned, the left and right voices overlapping each other, but this time they gradually grew louder and louder until Manson could confirm they were right in front of the broken fountain.
Manson peeked above the roof ledge and saw a group of people with their eyes determined as though they witnessed something serious. Then the other side had another group, this one actually having more people than the first group, sporting red sleeveless jackets with white long-sleeved undershirts. The second group definitely emitted major mook vibes from the way they looked and posed.
The two groups tried to stare down each other for some time until a large man from the red-clad team stepped forward. Manson saw that his hair was shaved down the middle, effectively diminishing the value of the haircut.
"Well, look what we have here. A couple of weak-ass chumps walking around like idiots in our turf, am I right, guys?"
A couple of the guys behind the big dude snickered at his words. Manson did not like the demeanor of the dude.
"You jerkwads, better back up; I don't have time to deal with you right now!"
A young woman with long hair, with one side of her head shaved. Her eyes were swollen with red pouches.
A friend of the woman next to her grabbed her shoulder, trying to prevent her from stepping forward. "Eustelle, please, calm down. Don't let this guy get to you. He's only trying to provoke you, and they're the ones who went near the bus station first."
"Huh? You think you scare me, lady? You better watch your tone before you really do something stupid," said the big guy with the red shirt.
Eustelle, with a smirk appearing on her face, only softly chuckled at his words. "The only thing stupid around here is your haircut. Did you do it yourself without help, or did a dog chew on it while you were sleeping?"
The chubby guy at Eustelle's side snorted with amusement at her returned words.
The big guy with the haircut turned red as a fresh tomato as his lackeys tried their very best to hold it in. The big guy glared at them, and they all went back to their serious looks.
"SHUT UP! It's considered cool to have this type of cut!" he loudly protested. "Someone like you wouldn't understand!"
The red jacket mooks all prepared to attack, and the chubby guy with the woman prepared some kind of mystical, unknown fighting stance from a foreign place or something like that. Manson didn't know what to call it.
"Enough of this shit!" The bad haircut guy curled his fingers into tight fists. "You ask for it, so you're gonna regret messing with us!"
"Boys, it's time to take out the trash before the sun gets up," Eustelle said to her group. She stretched her arms before moving on to her legs.
Manson was sure about the next thing that would happen, and that was a fight between the two groups around the fountain. The whole area had a chance of getting trashed by the shuffling it would get. He made sure that he was extra hidden so he wouldn't get spotted and get dragged into the whole mess. The plan was to wait until Manson could get out of the area with everyone unconscious from the unruly brawl.
Eustelle and the red jacket big guy led their own teams into the fray first, their fist pumped above their heads as they roared.
"Rip them to shreds, Red Punchers!" the big guy bellowed to his group.
"Beat them to a pulp! Snapcrack Gang!" said Eustelle, trying to rally her charging team forward without hesitation.
Manson breathed through his clenched teeth in fear for what was going to happen. It would definitely grab the attention of anyone nearby, causing a storm of chaos to brew right next to the saloon roof he was on.
"This stinks..."